How To Judge a Book By Its Cover
by hello sunshinexo
Summary: Angela makes immediate and often unfair judgments about the people she meets. Will her new life as a farmer in Castanet and her new friends--and enemies--change that?
1. Chapter 1

Three choices stood before her, testing her nonexistent ability to make decisions. After opening and closing her mouth several times—which only succeeded in making her look like an unsightly, gaping fish like the ones caught in the murky pond by her dilapidated house—she pointed to the one on the far left. "That one," she finally agreed.

Cain nodded, his grin making him look even younger than he usually appeared. "Good choice. Surprising. I pegged you as a traditional white-with-black-spots type of girl." He paused, switched gears. "Now you get to name her."

Angela blinked at her new calf, taking in the shiny, pure black coat and warm brown eyes. Another decision. Great. "Uh… Viola?" It was more of a question at first, but her voice steadied. "Yes. You're Viola, aren't you, sweetheart?" Reaching out her hand, Angela pet her spindly-legged livestock on her gentle head.

"You are two peas in a pod," Cain said approvingly. Without further ado, he added "Well, off to work! I'll drop 'er at your place once I get a chance." Angela nodded, a slow smile playing on her face.

"Thanks, Cain." With that, the young farmer left through the open gates of Horn Ranch's barn. She felt a little dazed, wondering why a near stranger had given her a calf, free of charge. In the city, where she grew up, she would have suspected that a man showing such kindness to a young woman in her twenties had another, less chivalrous motive in mind. But, for some reason, Angela trusted this kindly married rancher. She had resolved to trust in her new neighbors' generosity instead of being suspicious, so with this idea in mind, she set off for "home."

Home was a dilapidated shack with more holes than a legal contract written by a corrupt attorney. Piles of molding logs were strewn in the exact places Angela would most likely trip and the ceilings leaked right above her pillow on rainy days. Still, it felt more like home than any old bedroom or college dorm had been, and was certainly the cheapest. Of course, the 5,000 gold owed to pay off the ramshackle little house was still too steep a price for Angela to pay immediately, and she was still working diligently to pay off those costs.

It was only her second week in sleepy Harmonica Town, but already Angela felt at ease with the villagers. Living in a close-knit community certainly forced everyone to learn kindness and hospitality, which was proven by the number of gifts and praises her new neighbors presented her.

Much like Viola.

Thinking about the calf gave Angela an idea. Because everyone she met had been unbelievably welcoming to her, the novice farmer would prove her thanks by giving gifts of her own. Angela had spent much of her time so far planting and watering fickle seeds and heaving the hammer inside of the Garmon Lower Mine. In fact, she had barely spoken to "the natives," as she liked to call the villagers, except when she rushed by them on the streets or dirt paths through the town. These people had been so sweet to a complete stranger—

_Smack!_ Angela's train of thought was interrupted as she collided into another body, who she presumed was a girl due to the soft-looking hair and barrettes. Unfortunately, Angela had run into the other person with such force that the poor girl had dropped everything she had been carrying, which was all food-related.

"I'm so sorry!" Angela gasped, embarrassed at her own stupidity. "Let me help!" She dropped to her knees and began shoving half-ruined dishes onto mercifully intact china plates. "Mostly everything looks fine; I'm sure—"

Her babbling was cut short by a surprisingly masculine voice. "Get up, it's too late to fix anything." Angela looked up, confused, a chunk of potato in her left hand and a misshapen rice cake in the other. The voice did not belong to a girl, as she had assumed, but a young man. His hair was a strange mix of orange, red, blond, and maybe even pale pink, but his large eyes were even more odd—they were violet, and shone with temporary annoyance. Barrettes did in fact adorn his messy hair, but he was definitely not a woman. _Oh, shit,_ Angela thought. _Grovel, apologize, then grovel some more, and quickly make an exit._

"I'm sorry," she repeated quickly. "I wasn't watching where I was going, obviously, but I didn't mean to run into you. I'm new here and I don't know the paths very well, and I guess I—"

His gaze was so sharp that she shut up mid-explanation. "Forget it," he said coldly. "I don't have time to deal with a stupid new farmer who can't even see three feet in front of herself."

Angela was so shocked that she dropped the food in her hands. She felt rage building under her skin like volcanic lava; her infamously rapid temper was another of her "qualities". "Well excuse me," she said, trying to imitate his sarcastic tone, "I guess Mr. Perfect over here can just pick up the mess himself." With that, she turned and stormed away, leaving Barrette Boy to clean up. _What a jerk_, she thought with contempt. _Now I know who is definitely NOT getting any gifts from me!_

Later that afternoon Angela must have been pummeling the rocks with extra force because Owen walked up to her, looking confused. "Angela, you smashed that rock with the first hit. I'm not sure if you realize, but here in the Mine District we _do_ have a blacksmith who will shape that gold for you," he said, half-joking.

Angela had not, in fact, been looking at what she was smashing. It felt much better to throw the hammer around, pretending she was crushing Barrette Boy with every heave of the lethal tool. "Gold?" And indeed, gold was on the floor in front of her, looking slightly smashed but beautiful nevertheless. As soon as she snatched up the precious metal, a realization hit: she had all the metals necessary in order to ring the Red Bell! Thrilled, Angela waved goodbye to a still-baffled Owen and half-skipped out of the Lower Mine. Barrette Boy was all but forgotten as she rushed into Ramsey's shop to give the blacksmith the materials in order to finally ring the Fire Bell.

**So this chapter was way shorter than expected and kinda crappy, but the next ones will be much, much better! You all have my word. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

A few nights after successfully ringing the Red Bell, Angela stepped into the Brass Bar to try some of the stir fry that Kathy had raved to her about. Because the boat service to the islands surrounding Castanet was temporarily closed, the bar only served a grand total of 3 dishes. Kathy insisted, however, that even if the bar had many other dishes stocked, the stir fry was still one of the best on the menu. So, hungry and tired after a long day, Angela trudged through the bright green doors, scanning the room for Kathy.

Kathy was in the back by the stove, talking animatedly to a very familiar looking—

"Asshole!" Angela exclaimed aloud, prompting the few customers in the bar to swivel in their seats and stare at her. Kathy, who had apparently had not heard Angela's outburst, turned around as well.

"Hey, look who it is!" she called gleefully. "C'mere a sec, Ang. You need to meet someone!" She grabbed the arm of the purple-eyed man and shook it, indicating that he should wave. His arm stayed limp and he shot a very annoyed glance at oblivious Kathy.

"Oh actually, I wasn't staying long," Angela fibbed, backing towards the door. "I just wanted to drop in to, uh, see how business is going!" She looked around the room at all the customers still watching her curiously. "Everyone looks great! Very happy! Well, I'd best be going!" _Smooth_, she told herself. She was about to make her very awkward exit when someone grabbed her arm.

"Not so fast," Kathy said cheerily. How she could have possibly dashed from across the room in seconds eluded Angela. "You're done with work for the day! Stay a little, relax! You said you were dying to try the stir fry here, right?" Kathy began dragging Angela towards a table.

"I just remembered!" Angela cried desperately, "I left my cow outside! She might, uh, run away!"

Kathy ignored her fidgeting friend. "She'll be fine," she said dismissively. "Cows can't run away." Turning towards scowling Barrette-Boy, she said, "This is Angela, the girl I was talking about? Isn't she just the sweetest thing? She's acting a little shy tonight for some reason, but usually—"

"We've met," Barrette-Boy interrupted curtly.

Kathy turned to Angela, surprise in her green eyes. "You know Chase, Ang?"

_So the jerk's name is Chase_, Angela thought. "Oh, not really," she said lightly, trying to keep her voice calm. "We ran into each other a couple days ago." _Literally_, she thought.

"Literally," Chase said. "I was carrying this huge pile of _very fragile_ plates and this chick rammed right into me."

"Uh, excuse me? It's Angela, not 'this chick'," Angela snarled. She shifted the weight of her rucksack on her shoulders—the Yellow Bell nestled between a turnip and a couple of tulips could knock someone out for sure. Not that she was considering injuring the pompous, judgmental, unforgiving—

"Whatever." Chase narrowed his eyes and turned back to a very bewildered-looking Kathy. "I have work to do. Unlike you, Angela—" he spat her name—"I can't take breaks."

"What was _that_ all about?" Kathy whispered to Angela as the rancher stomped towards the exit. "He can be sarcastic, but that was downright nasty!"

"Tell me about it." Angela glowered at Chase's back. The cook was furiously chopping potatoes, no doubt pretending he was slicing and dicing Angela's head instead of the vegetable under the knife's blade. "Sorry I lost my temper a little. He just pisses me off." She frowned. "I get a bad vibe just looking at him." Angela's expression softened once she noticed the look of concern on Kathy's usually cheery face. "Don't worry. I can't be friends with everyone!" Forcing a smile, she waved goodbye to Kathy. "I'll come back for that stir fry some other time!"

_Not a chance in hell,_ Angela told herself as she marched away from the bar.

————

"Look at how beautiful this lettuce is!" Angela exclaimed. She held the light green vegetable under Viola's nose as the disinterested heifer chewed her cud. Viola wasn't much of a talker, but she listened very well. "Finally, after _days_ of labor, I have ten lovely crisp heads of lettuce to give to Ruth at Marimba Farm. And then I can ring the Yellow Bell! Well," she concluded, patting Viola lovingly on her flank, "I'd better get going. Listen for the bell's chime for me!" Viola mooed in response, flicking her long, ropelike tail.

Ruth was thrilled to have the lettuce Angela had grown. "This is just what I need," she thanked Angela, a hint of a smile gracing her usually exhausted-looking face. "Now, let's go unlock that gate."

Angela couldn't contain herself once she was alone in the field. She took out the Yellow Bell and shouted, "Calling Collin!" Just as expected, the tiny sprite appeared, craning his neck to see who had summoned him. "Ring the bell!" Angela exclaimed impatiently.

"Yes ma'am," Collin squeaked. He turned to face the bell, his tiny face shining with joy. After a few poetic words, the bell began to shake. It shook and shook and finally burst into a melody that caused Angela's heart to stop beating for a moment. All of the world seemed to freeze as beautiful music poured from the depths of the bell.

Collin smiled up at Angela after the bell fell silent, his face radiant. "And that's that! Now I will be rejoined with the Harvest Goddess!" With that, the tiny sprite faded away until Angela stood alone in front of the awe-inspiring bell.

But not for long. The sound of footsteps reached Angela's ears and she nervously turned to see who her company was.

A man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties stood before her, panting, his cowboy-esque hat askew. He had hair the color of dark straw and mysterious, deep eyes. His jaw was chiseled and square, and he wore khaki pants, leather work boots and a tan button-down with the first few tiny buttons undone. Angela immediately recognized him.

"Calvin?" she questioned. She felt her heartbeat quicken. This man was gorgeous.

"Hey, Angela," he finally answered, catching his breath. "Did you hear that? That music?" He stepped closer to the Yellow Bell. "I think it has something to do with this. Maybe it's even connected to those moon stones in the ground and the tablet I gave you!" He sounded excited.

"Maybe," Angela said, smiling. Calvin had obviously run all the way over here from wherever he had been, and even windswept and clutching his side from the spring, he looked good.

"Whatever happened, it's done now…" Calvin frowned, reaching out and tapping the Bell. It was silent. He sighed and straightened his posture. "I guess I should get back to work. I'm really intrigued by the mines here, so I've decided to move." He grinned as Angela blushed. "I'll probably see you around, unless you're too busy feeding chickens and growing corn, huh?"

Angela nodded mutely, giving a little wave as he turned and meandered away. She made a mental note to visit this newcomer as often as possible. After her not-so-fantastic experiences with the other men in town (Barrette Boy, for example) she was ready to move on.


	3. Chapter 3

_You never have been and never will be an archaeologist,_ Angela told herself. _You can't even lift this hammer without gasping for breath. Come on, it sounds like you just ran a three-minute mile!_ With another heave, Angela half-dropped, half-slammed the hammer on a particularly stubborn boulder—if you could call it that. The rock was only the size of Angela's head, but after fifteen minutes of relentless smashing, the rock should have been obliterated. "I guess I never learned the proper way to hit a rock," Angela mumbled aloud. "What was I thinking? You—" smash "were—" smash "an—" smash "English major!" Finally, the boulder split in two.

"An English major huh? That's why you're so eloquent when you talk to yourself."

_Oh, damn,_ Angela thought as she heard the deep voice. Hoping that this was a nightmare—she sure looked like one, drenched in sweat and covered with dust and dirt particles—Angela slowly turned around to face Calvin. "Oh, hi there," she said as casually as she could. Unfortunately, at that moment her hammer slipped from her sweaty palms and clattered to the floor. Too exhausted to bend over and pick it up, she merely stared at it, as if willing it to reattach itself to her hand. "I'm a little tired," she offered as a lame explanation.

"Wild night last night?" Calvin smirked, one side of his mouth upturned and quivering slightly.

"Oh yeah, let me tell you, when I say that I ate dinner and promptly fell asleep, please realize that that is an extremely clever innuendo." Angela tried to return the smile, but she felt dazed by a combination of fatigue and that fluttery feeling she used to get in third grade back when she chased boys on the playground.

"I can see the wild child in you," Calvin responded, tipping his ever-present cowboy hat back on his head. "But really, what are you doing here? This mine isn't the best place for a lady such as yourself."

Not sure whether to be flattered or offended at first, Angela decided on the latter. "I can fend for myself, thank you very much. I'm doing quite well on my own." She gestured towards the heap of rubble at her feet. "See that? That is what I like to call 'progress'."

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Calvin leaned back and laughed, a clear, deep, refreshing sound.

"Hey, I said progress, not success," she shot back, but by now, Angela couldn't help smiling a bit, too.

"I'll agree with you on that one." He sat down on a rounded rock facing her. "I haven't seen you in a while. I guess that's what being in the mines all day does to you," Calvin added as an afterthought. "I'm up and through here, and then I go home. Such is the thrilling life of an archaeologist."

"What exactly are you looking for?"

Calvin looked at her sheepishly and tilted his hat to cover his eyes. She still had no idea what color they were, and this added to his mystery. "You know, I'm not really sure." He cleared his throat, the indicator of a story about to unfold. "I came here in the beginning because I was broke and out of work. There aren't many jobs out there for anthropologists, especially archaeologists. You teach, do research, or excavate out in Africa." He paused and licked his lips. "Africa's too dangerous nowadays. War has torn almost every nation apart, and in the midst of all that, no leader wants some nosy scavenger digging up his people's land."

Angela had a sudden imagine of a slightly younger Calvin, caked in desert dust and surrounded by dark, tattooed tribesmen. And she had thought farming was hard.

"I left Africa and came home. I'm originally from Montana," and he touched his hat again. "Not everyone herds cattle there, you know, and very few people wear a cowboy hat. I started wearing it in Africa to shade my face from the sun… and now I wear it to remember my roots. I'm no city boy, although I heard you came from the land of skyscrapers and traffic jams."

Not wanting to interrupt his story but not wanting to seem rude, Angela nodded. "I'm from Buffalo, New York, but I moved to Manhattan right out of college. It's not all it's cracked up to be… and now I'm in a tiny town, population thirty-five, and couldn't be happier." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other; although he was sitting, Angela was still standing.

"Everyone here is happy," Calvin mused. "I know that and I've been here for an even shorter time than you have. I tried to go back home, but home wasn't the same after Africa. There's nothing to do in Montana, at least where I was. I wanted to dig, I wanted to find something. So… I came here. These mines have more than just gold and jewels—they have history. I don't want to be a coal miner. I have a selfish desire to be remembered, to matter."

"So what are you looking for?"

"I came here for the mysterious moon stones. There are three of them, perfectly preserved. Just like this town. People have been living her for generations, making a living and raising families. And yet, nobody knows about this quiet haven that doesn't live here. I'm surprised you found it. I'm surprised I found it… as I said, I stumbled upon some information about these moon stones in the ground. They must mean something, because the moon only hits them perfectly ever so often… and not at the full moon. I can't seem to figure them out." Calvin paused again, deep in thought. "Since I know nothing about their origin or what they mean, I can't publish anything about the moon stones. I can't make any money here, except… can you keep a secret?"

Angela flushed and leaned in slightly closer to him. What had begun as an innocent encounter had transformed into a meaningful conversation, albeit one-sided. She wondered if this meant Calvin trusted her. "Yes," she said.

"I mine for gold and jewels now. These mines are rife with precious ore… it's seemingly never-ending. Of course, it is exhausting work, but I know how to dig and I know how to deal with rocks. I recognize valuable metals easily, more easily than most. Oh, by the way—" Calvin reached down and scooped up some reddish dust in his palm, "the rock you spent over ten minutes pulverizing was copper ore."

Angela blushed even more. "I told you, I was an English major!"

Calvin shrugged and smiled slightly. "I just thought you'd like to know." He shook his wrist and glanced down at the plain analog watch. "Well, my shift's over. And by that, I mean it's time for a drink. Angela, want to come to the bar with me? I'm assuming you're done working for the day too."

"I thought you said you spent time in the mines and the inn only?" Angela slowly eased the hammer back into her bag as she spoke. "I'd love to, actually—" but no sooner had she accepted the request that she realized what he had said. The Brass Bar? Workplace of none other than Barrette Boy? "—but I can't. Not tonight, anyway," she stuttered, trying to look sincere. "I have mountains of dishes to do."

"So do them after. Come on, it's just a quick drink," Calvin insisted. He looked so handsome as he stared at her imploringly from under the brim of his hat.

"No, really… not tonight," Angela said softly. "I'm sorry," she added.

"Suit yourself. It was nice talking to you." He sounded sincere. He was already halfway out of the mine entrance when he called back, "I'll see you around!"

"Yeah," Angela repeated sadly to herself after he had left, "see you around."

_Damn!_

**Sorry it's been so long, guys! Starting college and balancing my new life has definitely kept me busy. Now I need a creative outlet, so I'm back! Any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! **


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